


Sleepy-Time Tea

by marshmallowdeanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, dean asking for permission, dean smith except not, handjobs, tea aisle au, yes they meet in the grocery store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowdeanie/pseuds/marshmallowdeanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't drink tea. Except when hot boys tell him to.</p><p>Aka, Dean and Cas hit it off in the tea aisle at the grocery store after Cas gives Dean some unwarranted advice about tea-making and stress reduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepy-Time Tea

Dean was out of coffee.

That was the only reason he'd gone out that Sunday morning, because if he didn't stay caffeinated, the crushing anvil of work-induced stress would fucking _certainly_ Nyquil his ass before he could finish all of the work he needed to get done.

So, Dean was idling in the grocery store, aisle 7, which was obviously the aisle with coffee, taking a call from his brother. Really, he would have ignored it and texted his brother Sam to call back on a day where he didn't have two presentations riding his ass, but out of the sheer guilt that he hadn't spoken to Sam in over a week, Dean picked up.

"I know, I _know_ , I'm sorry, Sammy. I know I said I could meet you and her for drinks last week but I just had a lot of shit come up at work," Dean tells him sympathetically, but he knows he's laying his own self-pity out front to try and throw Sam off his back. Dean feels bad, but he can't blow this off, even for Sam.

Dean pauses to listen to Sam bitch a little, only half-tuned in, and side-eyes a man who's walking leisurely up the aisle towards him.

He's got a light blue t-shirt on with a little bit of extra space in it around his waist and his blue jeans are cuffed above his ankles, which Dean can see are sun-kissed to match the rest of his body; arms, neck, cheeks, forehead. Most people are tinted gold this time of year in Florida, but this man's skin _glows_. Dean stares and watches the man remain oblivious to him as he examines something on a shelf until Sam is raising his voice.

"Earth to Dean! _Hello_?!"

"Sorry--uh, look, Sam--Thursday night for sure, okay? I'm at the store right now. I haven't slept more than six hours since Wednesday--I have these two huge presentations to make for the board tomorrow and I'm stressed. I've been stressed since October, ya know? But it's my job. I have to go. I'll see you Thursday," Dean tells Sam goodbye and hangs up before his brother can protest anymore.

He turns, angling to sneak another peek at the golden-glory across the aisle when suddenly he's met with the man face to face.

"I...couldn't help but overhear you talking about how stressed out you've been. I know how you feel. Have you ever considered substituting your coffee with tea instead?" the man spits out, tilting his head and adjusting the plastic grocery basket hanging in the crook of his arm.

Dean's eyes flicker at its contents; it's overflowing with tea boxes, rice cakes, and oddly enough, baby carrots. Dean is completely caught off guard at first. He hadn't expected to be spoken to. He'd only planned on giving a friendly smile, if that. But now the frankly _beautiful_ dark-haired man is looking up at him and waiting for a response.

"I, uh, yeah, _well_ \--tea's not really my thing, actually," he manages to say, feeling like his mouth has turned into a hot, dry, cotton field in the middle of an Indian summer.

"Have you ever _tried_ it?" the man asks slowly, leaning a little closer and half-smiling like a knowing mother.

"N-not really, but--" Dean starts, but the man interrupts him by holding out a pale yellow box for him to take and speaking.

"I think you would really like chamomile. It's very relaxing--you just mix in a little milk and fresh honey and drink it nice and hot in bed and you'll feel _so_ much better," he tells Dean, and the way he talks soothes Dean, as if he's taking a gulp of chamo- _whatever_ as the words flow like a pretty ribbon on a spool from the man's plush, pink, mouth. The way he looks at Dean shows that he genuinely cares.

"Thanks, but...I don't know. I've got a lot of work to do, so sleep is kinda taking a back burner," Dean replies, careful not to sound dismissive. He doesn't want to lose sight of this man's features yet.

With the most brooding blue puppy dog eyes Dean has ever seen in his entire life, the man takes a tiny step forward and drops the tea box into Dean's shopping basket anyway. He smiles when Dean looks surprised, gummy and sweet and a little bit cheeky, and Dean feels his heart stammer a little.

"Sleep is very important. Don't ever neglect your health for a job. Trust me. _Get the chamomile_ ,"

Dean raises his eyebrows a bit, and he realizes he's almost completely forgotten about reality in the short amount time since this man has paid him any attention. He snaps out of the tunnel vision, though, and rubs his tired eyes, Dean nods his head and begins to smile as rouge creeps up his neck and his cheeks like ripe tomatoes.

"Okay, _alright_ \--I'll get the frickin' tea-- _on one condition_ ; you come over my house and make it for me the _right_ way with milk and sugar, or whatever's good," and no sooner does Dean utter these words that he can't believe he's said them. He's just asked this fucking guy out, real deal, in the grocery store. Dean still has no coffee in his basket.

The man looks even perkier, to Dean's surprise, and switches his heavy basket to his opposite arm.

"Fine. We have a deal. I promise you the finest cup of tea you've ever had so far," he replies instantly.

Dean literally cannot believe this right now. Maybe it's just been a while since he gave himself time to socialize with someone who isn't his brother. He feels like shoving the Taster's Choice off the shelves to look for hidden cameras or Ashton Kutcher, but he doesn't.

"I'm Dean. Uh, Winchester. Dean Winchester," he introduces instead, tugging at the collar of his jacket that it now feels too warm for. The man makes this adorable bashful face at Dean for a second, mumbles something, and looks down at his shoes, which are really slippers.

"My name's Cas. _Castiel_ ," he says a bit louder. Dean grins and pulls his cell phone back out of his pocket.

"Cas. I'll stick with that. Go 'head and put your number in my phone," Dean tells him, holding composure despite the fact that his pulse is thumping in his throat to a tempo that he can't count. Castiel takes Dean's silver phone carefully and puts in what Dean hopes is his real phone number.

"Just call me later and let me know when our appointment is...?" Cas suggests, a sideways smile bringing out his eye wrinkles and a dimple in his cheek.

"Yes. Definitely," Dean answers, and starts to walk away first, only to nearly knock over a cardboard NASCAR display. He hears a giggle and his cheeks burn hotly, but he turns over his shoulder to give a little embarrassed wave at Cas before grabbing his dumb coffee and truly parting ways with the other man.

 

Dean is well into his second project when the stress starts rolling over him in waves. He feels like he's sitting in the electric chair. At this point, Dean's been staring at his notes and his white computer screen for hours, feeling a new but sharp and dreadfully similar pang of anxiety punch him in the gut every time he looks at a blank slide or document, knowing he'll have to fill it up with information, _graphics_ , stats...his head is fucking vibrating with it.

And then his cell phone beeps, indicating a new text. He wouldn't normally open it up, but he needs to takes his eyes off of his work for at least a minute just so he doesn't overheat and burnout. His eyes sting when he blinks.

**_Ready for that tea yet? :-)_ **

Cas. The text makes Dean smile and puts a tickle in his stomach, even makes his shoulders feel a little lighter. So Dean presses the green button and calls him.

 

Dean continues to work ( _distractedly_ ) until Cas rings his doorbell. At least his fonts are definitely consistent now, however menial.

"Hey," he greets Cas at the door, stepping aside to allow him inside. Castiel is wearing the same outfit as before, only this time with yellow rain boots and a jacket to match. It's obnoxious and adorable and _wow_ , Dean hadn't even noticed it was raining, but that was just how Florida worked.

"Hi," Cas says brightly, shrugging his arms out of his wet coat. Dean takes it from him and gently hangs it on his coat rack. Having Cas at his house is certainly a little...strange, but definitely not unwelcome. Dean doesn't normally bring his dates home unless, _well_...but then again, it strikes Dean that Cas had called this an _appointment_. He hoped Cas wasn't going to send him a bill in the mail or ask for a tip. Dean was kind of hoping this would be more like a date. Once he gets that idea in his head, Dean is buzzing with nerves.

Cas slips out of his shoes, (Dean had observed that the man's blue socks had bumble bees on them, though he made no comment) and he shows him to the kitchen.

"You have a lovely home," Cas remarks, lingering in the middle of the floor as Dean fumbles in his mostly empty cupboards for two mugs.

"Thanks. My brother did most of the painting and decorating...I renovated. When I bought it it was a fixer-upper, but we really busted our asses to clean it up decent," Dean confessed.

Cas nodded and his smile twitched, spreading wider.

"Wow. I wouldn't really peg you as the carpenter type," Cas admitted, sounding a little bit impressed.

Dean took out the chamomile tea and noticed that Cas had brought his own milk and a mason jar full of what seemed to be honey.

"Why?! I'm a jack of all trades. Business manager by day and carpenter, mechanic, and sometimes even plumber by night," Dean snorts, playfully feigning offense.

"That's a good way to be. I write an advice column for an online newspaper. I work from my apartment mostly, and sometimes I sell a painting or two. Art is just a hobby of mine. I couldn't tell you the first thing about cars or pipes or home improvement. I call my landlord when my sink leaks! _But_ I _can_ make chamomile tea," Cas says shyly, taking two of the dainty white tea bags from Dean's box.

"Nothing wrong with that. Who cares if you don't know about fixing stuff? You can _make_ things," Dean tells him, scoffing. For a minute, Dean catches Cas looking at him with what feels like endearment, but then he seems to blush and look down, wiggling his bumble-bee-clad toes.

Dean chuckles and steps aside. He lets him have free reign of the sink and the microwave that he uses to heat the water up, admiring Cas's frame and the little flat tummy that gets exposed when he reaches up to take the hot water from Dean's microwave. Cas drops one tea bag into each mug and then leans against the counter, meeting Dean's gaze from where he is sitting at his kitchen table.

He lets the tea steep.

Dean can't remember the last time--or _any_ time--he'd sat at his kitchen table. He spends most of his time working now and gets take-out food a majority of the week.

Cas is still smiling contently. "Do you live alone?" he asks inquisitively.

"Yeah. Why, don't you?" Dean asks, biting his lip anxiously. Cas nods to his relief.

"Mhm. I was just curious," His eyes travel around the kitchen a bit, and all Dean can do is stare. Castiel is so pretty--gorgeous, in fact. Everything from his smile to his bone structure to his long legs, full thighs, and lithe middle. He wants to press him up against the kitchen counter and taste his mouth, lick him open and feel the heat of his tongue.

Dean shifts in his chair slightly, readjusting, as it occurs to him that he doesn't have that feeling of due dates nagging in the back of his mind since he met this man.

Cas checks the mugs and decides the tea has steeped well enough, and goes for the milk and honey. Dean stands up and walks over to stand beside Cas, almost hip to hip, to watch him make the tea. Cas shows him the mason jar.

"This is fresh honey. My uncle is a beekeeper. I work for him in the summer and he gives me honey. I love it--the bees are just so...fascinating. And they make delicious honey. Try some," Cas insists, and he takes Dean's hand, dipping his index finger into the jar for him as if Dean wouldn't have done it upon request. Then Dean brings his own finger to his lips and sucks on it. It tastes absolutely fucking divine. Cas waits eagerly for a reaction, watching Dean's every motion as he cleans his finger off.

"I'll be damned. That _is_ good, Cas," Dean says truthfully. Cas is satisfied with that answer and he spoons a little of the thick, gold, homemade honey into their steaming mugs, following it up with some milk.

"Alright, you take the first sip," Cas instructs him, pushing his mug towards him. Dean lifts his mug, a little scared that he won't like it and he'll hurt Cas's feelings, but when the warm tea hits his tongue and its aroma fills his nose, he knows that won't be a problem.

It tastes pretty good, actually. It's not bitter at all, like coffee. He can pick out the distinct flavors of the honey versus the actual flavor of the chamomile, and the milk gives it body like creamer in a coffee. It's a little flowery but pleasantly sweet.

"I have to say, it's pretty good. Maybe not enough to break my coffee addiction, because that shit's part of my bloodstream, _but_ ," Dean takes another sip of his tea and Cas, who's grinning, takes a long sip of his own, "you make a _damn_ _good_ cup of tea,"

"Thank you," Cas says earnestly, and Dean sets his cup down.

"Thanks for doing this, Cas, I...I didn't realize how much I could have used a break," Dean says with gratitude.

"You looked like you needed it. I hate to see people so overworked. Life's too short to spend it that way," Cas shares, giving Dean a small smile. Cas very gingerly reaching between then and curls his fingers around Dean's own that are attached to his mug. His thumb brushes across Dean's knuckles, and suddenly Dean feels so touch-starved that just the tiny spark from this simple gesture makes his belly ignite with fire.

"Cas...would it be alright if I kissed you right now?" Dean asks hesitantly, disregarding what the consequences could be if Cas were to refuse him. He feels the warmth of Cas's body first, pressing into his side and after he blinks Cas's nose is right there, just barely brushing the tip of his own. Of course Dean has a few inches on him, so Cas tilts his head back and his chin up.

"It would be nice," he replies, prompting Dean to lean slowly forward to touch their lips together.

It's like kissing a peony, or a patch of warm velvet. Dean doesn't press too hard at first. They just move their lips softly against one another's mouths and keep their heads still, breaking in between for small breaths. Then Dean pulls at Cas's bottom lip with his teeth just experimentally, and a thread unwinds in his belly as he watches Cas's swollen lip release from his hold. Then Dean pulls his mouth away.

"Shit...," he mutters, watching Cas open his eyes and blink innocently at him. Dean twists around to reach for his mug of tea. He takes a sip, and Castiel takes a small step back.

"That was...," Cas starts to say, but Dean senses him searching and searching for words that won't formulate, and Dean knows that feeling, because _oh God_ , Cas is just like heaven and Dean's ready to take this thing to the bedroom right now, but he knows he can't. That familiar weight is back on his shoulders again, and he feels guilty for not working.

"Yeah so...wanna take our tea to the living room? I still have some work I need to do," Dean asks hopefully. Looking maybe a little jilted, Cas nods and they retire to the the other room, where Dean brings his laptop along with his mug.

Cas sits down on the couch close, but not too close. Dean wishes they were touching again. He hears Cas sigh, and it becomes a little awkward.

Dean stares at the blank, white, slide on his computer screen and his fingers hover over the keys, but his mind is even blanker. It's obvious that he's worthless to work now. The only thing in his mind is Cas. And it would be silly to force the gears in his head to turn when they simply...won't. Dean closes his laptop  with abandon, _damn the machine_ , and looks over at Cas, who he feels has been staring at him throughout his internal struggle. Then he feels Cas's hand on the back of his neck.

" _Relax_ , Dean...you'll get to it. Give yourself a rest," Cas tells him, his eyes begging. His fingers knead into Dean's neck and shoulder, which are tense. Dean feels a pleasant tingle low in his spine and he twists himself to face Cas, bringing a hand up to grip his jaw firmly and kiss him again. It's an awkward position to kiss in, they both realize after just moments, and Cas climbs into Dean's lap, his knees digging into the couch on either side of him. Then Cas reconnects their kiss and deepens it.

He opens his mouth against Dean's, offering entrance by Dean's tongue, and Dean has to tilt his head to accommodate. Cas tastes like the sweet honey from his tea, and Dean traces his teeth. He places his hands on the small of Cas's back, rubbing tiny circles beneath his shirt with the rough pads of his fingertips. Cas mewls softly into Dean's mouth and breathes heavily. Dean opens his eyes for a moment to catch a glimpse of Cas's own, hooded and heavy-lidded.

"Can I touch you?" Dean asks in a whisper with his lips against Cas's cheek. He trails them down to his neck, feeling Cas shiver above him.

" _Yes_ ," Cas returns with an eager note in his ragged voice. He puts both of his hands on Dean's broad shoulders and starts kneading again like he's giving a massage. His fingers roll into his skin. It feels like he can press the tense knots right out of Dean's shoulders and honestly, just Cas sitting in his lap _doing fucking that_ could probably do it for him because it's been so long since he's felt this relaxed.

Dean pops the button open on Cas's pants and pulls down his zipper. He's half hard, dick leaning to the side in his white boxer briefs. Dean rubs Cas's dick through the cotton, pulling a shudder out of the man again. He keeps rubbing Dean's shoulders, though, and teeters forward to kiss him with fervor. Dean stretches Cas's boxers out of the way somewhat so he can get his hand around Cas's half-hard cock. Cas has a lot of dark pubic hair, curling around his dick like gloriously unkempt shrubbery. He's pretty dry, so Dean has to spit in his hand and slick his length up a little to stroke him. Cas moans for the first time, quietly, when Dean rubs his thumb over the head of his cock. The sound makes Dean's stomach squirm and his dick twitch where it's hard in his pants against's Cas's thigh. He keeps stroking Cas and kissing him wetly with an open mouth, even rutting against Cas's thigh for some kind of friction.

Dean uses his other hand to card his fingers through Cas's hair once and then slides it up the front of Cas's t-shirt. Cas's nipple is already perked to attention when Dean experimentally brushes his thumb over it. Cas let's out another breathy moan and gasps when Dean gives his nipple a tweak. His mouth is agape, no longer occupied kissing Dean as Dean's mouth has moved on to Cas's collarbone. He leaves a few red bites there and runs his tongue over each for good measure, concentrating hard on getting Cas to make more pretty noises for him. Cas can't even focus on rubbing Dean's shoulders anymore because he's so blissed out with Dean moving his rough, slick hand over his cock while attending to one nipple at a time. He grinds his ass down desperately on Dean's thigh, letting a shuddering groan escape his lips.

"Feels good?" Dean asks, and Cas starts to pepper sloppy kisses over Dean's neck. He nods.

Dean pauses to pull Cas's jeans down further, past the curve of his ass. Cas's cock springs up wetly against his stomach and Dean reaches between them to touch him again. Cas whimpers, leaning into Dean and fumbling to get his hand down Dean's pants. It proves difficult in their position, but he manages and it's like a cool drink of water for Dean, fucking hell. Cas's hand moves quickly over him, sweaty and shaky. When Dean slides his free hand up the back of Cas's thigh and grabs a handful of his ass, Cas buries his nose in Dean's neck. Then he brushes his fingers against Cas's entrance and feels his hole wink at the contact. Cas simultaneously lets out a little sob of pleasure and shakes.Every touch brings a reaction out of Cas and Dean loves it. When Dean swipes his thumb across the slit of Cas's cock one more time, he jerks his hips into Dean's fist and comes with a cry, arching his back as he messes the front of Dean's shirt with come.

Cas wilts against Dean's chest but he determinedly keeps jerking Dean off. But Dean bats him away and unzips his own pants to take over for Cas, who watches with his head on his shoulder and his hand covering Dean's on his cock. Dean comes with a yelp minutes later while Cas languidly sucks a purple hickey into his neck.

It's a big mess, but Dean feels a thousand times better than be has in weeks. _Months_.

" _Cas_...," Dean breathes out like a prayer.

"Yes?" Cas answers with a slightly less fucked out, and definitely amused voice. Which is no fair because he's already recovered from his orgasm.

"Nothing...I'm just. Wow," Dean says. It probably falls under the category of ' _gushing_ ,' but Dean can hardly bring himself to care. Cas takes a deep breath through his nose and then laughs.

"I don't want to move, but we're very sticky,"

Dean smiles and offers, "Just lemme get up for a towel,"

" _No_. Tell me where your things are. Don't move,"

So Dean tells Cas where to get a towel from and where he can get them both a change of clothes. And Cas returns having also reheated their half-drinken tea.

 

Cas falls asleep against Dean on the couch while he manages to finish his presentation, stress free, and his tea. Cas had been right about it making him sleepy, but he'd also just came so hard his lights probably flickered, so that could have spoiled him, too. Either way, Dean falls into a deep sleep next to Cas with his mug still grasped loosely in his hand. And it isn't the last time he has tea with Castiel.


End file.
